Daffodils
by IsisMoon9
Summary: SJ Fluff


Daffodils

We walked in the meadow today, the huge expanse of the plain behind the cabin. Do you remember that spring? The great carpet of daffodils reaching out before us, reaching for the horizon without interruption. It was just like that today.

She ran beside me, pulling me by the hand, leading me through the field. She leads me even though she knows I could walk this route blindfolded. We walk here often just to chat or think together. He blonde curls bobbing in the wind like the delicate heads of the daffodils she loves so much.

On days like this she reminds me of the flowers she loves so much. Bright and cheerful but with a sad side that only those who know her, and know what she's lost can understand. But we don't talk about it; we have our separate thoughts, only disturbed by the wind rustling through the trees flanking either side of this alley-way of colour. As I watch her move in front of me, her hands sweeping against the flower heads, dusting her hands yellow with pollen, she reminds me of that day. The fear both of us felt, the anxiety and trepidation hanging over us like clouds.

Her head disappears and my heart sinks as I know she has found my place. A small patch that the flowers never quite penetrate. The same place we sat all those years ago, on the same blanket. The setting almost mirroring the image imprinted in my mind. It never feels quite the same here though, there's always that something missing that makes a lump catch in my throat and my heart skip a beat. As I emerge into the small clearing I see her lay on the small blanket. She's just beautiful, lay there reading. A tear catches in my eye as I watch her, I can't bring myself to move, even breathe looking at her. She looks up at me and gets up, a puzzled look, followed by one of understanding and sadness. Taking a deep breath I clear my head and walk to her. She pulls my hand, indicating I should sit with her. I know what she wants and why we are here, the same thing she wants every time we come here. I oblige and sit beside her, feeling her curl up beside me.

She wants to hear about you, as always. Just like you she has an insatiable curiosity for things she feels she needs to know more about. She wants to hear about how we met, in case she missed any details the first hundred or so times I've told her, how we saved the world together, how we fought and made-up and finally how we got together. We never seem to get to that part though. It seems like such a short time ago, and some wounds just don't heal. But today I'll tell her. You would have wanted her to know. Today that's where our story will start, because today of all days is yours. Even though you've been gone 2 years now it still feels like I'm losing you over and over every day, its only Grace that's kept me going. I knew one day you would be taken from me, but not so suddenly or so soon.

The little blonde starts to poke me and giggle, telling me she's had enough of waiting while I bathe myself in nostalgia. "Hey, no giggling!" I tell her off in a mock tone, in response she grins up at me, with your smile. "Well, it was on a day just like this…" I tell her of how we finally got things out into the open that fishing trip after Dad died. I can tell by the slight smirk on her face that her uncles have already told her this before, but she doesn't admit it. She knows I need to finally talk to someone about you, she's older than her years in that way, just like you.

As I talk and describe you I show her the photos I still keep hidden away in my wallet of us, she laughs at my hair, just like you did. She asks me where I think you are, and I can't answer her. The lump in my throat becomes almost choking and the tears build up until my eyes feel like they might burst any moment. She hugs me and the floodgates open. I try and be strong for her but now is my time to finally grieve for you. I sit there will her chubby arms around my neck until I have enough composure to look at her. I tell her that her mommy is everywhere; she looks at me as if I'm crazy until I quantify what I've said.

I tell her that she is so much like you and she will always have you and her memories of you by the lake and around the cabin. She also has you in the stars; you're up there watching her. Content with my answer she begins to play again in the daffodils, twirling and cart wheeling (and promptly falling over).

I look out and smile. I have you here. When I come to our spot here I can hear your laugh when the wind whispers through the trees, and when the daffodils die I sometimes think I can see you silhouetted against the moon on the jetty. But mostly I know you're here just on instinct.

Maybe one day we'll walk through our field of daffodils again, one day.


End file.
